Year 1459 – Village of Shuru
The wounded soldier's name was Gavin.
Alaric learned that when he snuck into the back room of the tavern that evening. He wasn't supposed to be there, but the adults had put him on "water carrying duty," which, in his opinion, meant he should check if anyone needed water.
Gavin lay on Berthold's spare bed, half out of his cloak, fresh bandage wrapped around his side. The sharp smell of herbs filled the room. Old man Harn muttered under his breath as he tied the last knot.
"Still hurts?" Harn asked.
"It'd be stranger if it didn't," Gavin replied, teeth gritted.
Alaric hovered in the doorway until Tomas spotted him.
"Thought I told you to stay with your mother," Tomas said.
"She sent me," Alaric lied automatically. "To see if he needed more water."
Harn snorted. "Well, he's here now. Make yourself useful, then."
Gavin glanced over, then nodded toward the simple cup on the table. "If you don't mind."
Alaric darted forward, filled the cup from the jug, and handed it over with both hands.
"Thanks," Gavin said. He drank slowly this time.
Up close, he looked older than Tomas, lines carved around his eyes. Tired. Heavier somehow, like he was carrying things that weren't just on his back.
"You said Buckland burned a village," Tomas said quietly. "They really did that just for grain?"
"Grain, livestock, tools" Gavin said. "People, too. Anyone who looked like they could work ended up tied in ropes. They'll be marched off as slaves, or 'laborers' if you like pretty words." His jaw clenched. "But that's not why they burned it."
"Then why?" Alaric blurted, then flinched. "Sorry."
Gavin studied him for a moment. "What's your name?"
"Alaric."
"Well, Alaric," Gavin said, "they burned it because fear travels faster than horses. If everyone hears there's nothing left on the border but ash, they'll run before the banners even show up. Makes it easier for an army to move."
Alaric's stomach knotted.
So they did it on purpose. To scare people away.
"Who gave that order?" Berthold asked from the corner. He'd slipped in quietly at some point.
Gavin's eyes hardened. "Northern Army Commander of Buckland,Marius Valen. His banner's a white horse and a black spear. Remember that. If you ever see those colors, you run, or you hide very well."
Alaric repeated the image silently.
White horse. Black spear. Marius Valen.
"Will they come here?" Marla's voice came from the doorway, thin and tight. She'd followed Alaric after all, dish cloth still in her hands.
"I don't know," Gavin said honestly. "Our kingdom's weak. If I were them? I'd carve a road straight through Horsin before anyone could stop me."
Tomas inhaled slowly, jaw clenched.
"But I'm not them," Gavin added. "I'm just the idiot who survived when I shouldn't have. Maybe they'll stop at the border. Maybe Horsin's king will finally wake up."
"Do you trust our king that much?" Harn muttered.
Gavin didn't answer.
Silence settled like a heavy blanket. Alaric stared at Gavin's bandage. At his own hands. At the floorboards.
Fear moves faster than horses.
He thought of Shuru. The fields. The well. The creek where they played. His mother's stew. His father's rough hand on his hair.
He imagined all of it on fire.
His chest hurt.
"Is there anywhere safer?" Marla asked suddenly. "Further in? Another kingdom?"
"Further south, maybe," Gavin said. "Or west. Shersia's stronger than Horsin, at least. Their Church looks after folk better. I saw some of their banners near the old demonfront once. They're not angels, but they hold the line."
"Shersia," Marla repeated under her breath.
Tomas's eyes flicked to her, then to Alaric.
"We shouldn't start running just because of one story," Berthold said. "Panic'll kill us faster than any spear."
"Panic, no," Harn agreed. "But being ready isn't panic."
Gavin leaned back, eyes closing for a moment. "Either way… I'd get your harvest in fast. And keep bags packed you can grab in one hand."
Alaric didn't follow all the adult talk, but he understood that last part very well.
Bags you can grab and run with.
That night, he went to bed with the image of a white horse and black spear burned into his mind.